


Clover

by Choi_Aya05



Series: The sort of mafia!au but not really [6]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Riding, implied human trafficking, the tags make this seem like pwp but smut is probably only 10 percent of the fic lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:22:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28504431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Choi_Aya05/pseuds/Choi_Aya05
Summary: To be offered an opportunity to reach his dreams was one Wonpil couldn't afford to let pass.But it all turned to dust the moment he was being told that he would train—only it wasn't the kind of training he was expecting.
Relationships: Kim Wonpil/Park Jaehyung | Jae
Series: The sort of mafia!au but not really [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811323
Kudos: 17
Collections: Day6 OTPs





	Clover

**Author's Note:**

> A Wonpil backstory whooo

Scam.

It was all a scam.

He realized it the moment he was being told that he would train—only it wasn't the kind of training he was expecting.

All of Wonpil's hard work, each and every piece he had put his soul into, gone. Down the drain as he traversed the long dim hallways of the club he was brought in. A man ahead him, a man behind him—both armed.

When he had accepted the offer, his "scout" had asked him to come to a place where he was made to perform. He had given his all, and was elated when he was told to meet one of the three "panel judges". He had been brimming with hope then.

But as soon as he had arrived in a luxurious room with a king-sized bed, the man was asking— _commanding_ he get on his knees. Expectantly looking at him as if he should know what to do. And he did.

He had straight up walked out of the door.

It didn't make his "scout" happy.

_"Where do you think you're going?"_

_"Out."_

_"I'm afraid that's not a possibility, Wonpil-ssi." As soon as the scout, Jeon Chul, had said so, the men on his both sides straightened up in a looming manner._

Wonpil stood no chance. With their dark secret out, they hadn't wanted him going out with the knowledge; not when he had nothing to lose while they risk losing everything if he ever decided to open his mouth. They needed a leverage against him.

But not really. They seemed powerful—at least from his perspective. They would destroy him before he could utter a peep and he had no doubt they'd get away with it. Plus, even if he did speak, it wasn't as if people would just believe him.

And the thing was, he was pretty sure they could and _would_ kill him—or worse, his _family_.

He shuddered, and shook the idea off. He shouldn't further frighten himself, it wouldn't do him any good. He must hold on to the belief that they'd prefer to make him profitable rather than waste bullets on him.

There was a plethora of possibilities that could happen if he didn't comply with them. He was thinking too much but nothing made sense the more he pondered.

He jolted when the men ahead him stopped walking.

"This'll be your room," Chul announced, pointing at one of the numerous doors with his thumb.

Wonpil reluctantly turned the knob and went in. The room was simple and generic with its white walls, neat single bed, a cabinet, desk and chair. Like a decent but impersonal dormitory, certainly unlike _home_.

At least the sheets and curtains were black.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he was heading for the windows.

Of course it was barred. In a fashionable style too, custom design of swirls and lines. He would commend it had he been in a jovial mood.

Looking up, the vent was screwed in place.

No escape was available— _nothing immediate_ , he corrected his thoughts. He had to stay positive and calm. An opening would come, he was sure. Something was bound to give.

His family and friends would always point out what a lucky boy he was. Surely it wouldn't fail now, in time of dire need. He believed in it, in himself.

He would wait patiently and grab the first opportunity to run.

That had been a week ago.

After his refusal to learn the art of properly sucking off some rich businessman to propel his career, he had volunteered to work as a waiter in the club. " _Just for the mean time, until I'm ready to try again,"_ had been his explanation, his _plead_.

To his great relief, they had agreed. _"While we find you a producer you'd be more compatible to work with,"_ had been the reply, and Wonpil had a bad inkling as to what kind of producer and "work" that had meant. He wasn't interested, not anymore. Hopefully he'd be out before they found anyone.

They occasionally allowed him to text his parents to ease any worries for the time being. Naturally, it had been monitored by one of the bouncers. A stereotypical one, with big muscular body that intimidated in a glimpse. Unfortunately, it worked on their favor. There was also the fact that Wonpil was living alone and away from his parents, aspiring to make a career out of music in the bigger city.

He hated the helplessness that overpowered him. Still, he observed. He tried to adjust and learn, reasoning that the better he got, the higher his chance to get out of this mess.

A chance that came one morning, when he was awoken by one of the female staffs. She told him that he had to prepare, and that it was sudden; that it shouldn't have been him but there were no other candidates available as of yet.

Wonpil was confused and anxious but it wasn't as if he was being given a choice.

They made him wear a black botton-down that was actually of high quality, obvious with one glance. The pants were the same hue but made with faux leather and very much tight-fitting. He could barely bend his knees when he sat.

They lined his eyes with dark eyeshadow and finished off with a choker—no, a collar attached to a _leash_.

Wonpil was dumbfounded and beyond ashamed. He thought he had evaded _this_ fate, at least for now, but somehow it got worse. His eyes stung with tears, but he did his best not to let them fall. Like he had been doing for the days since he was taken, because who knew what they did to crybabies.

He was ushered to the backdoor then to a car, one burly man on each of his sides. They covered his head with a burlap sack, making it not only challenging to breath, but as well as preventing him from memorizing their path. Then they were off.

Wonpil wasn't sure how long it took for them to arrive; time had been blending and passing by pretty oddly for him as of late. But they did, and the sack was removed.

He blinked his eyes open to see that he was in an elevator with another man. A certain Mr. Lim, if he wasn't mistaken. In charge of something he didn't quite catch as the female staffs were in a haste, flitting around him while simultaneously speaking.

He looked up to the small screen and internally counted along as they pass by floor after floor, tensing with each one, until they reached the penthouse.

The doors opened to reveal a spacious area and his first thought was, _wow. They must take so long to clean this place._

Second was: _what now?_

His friends had commented on the fact that he never got nervous, and he would argue that he did. Of course he did, what sane person did not? He was just good at hiding it.

And he had never been as grateful that he was great at seeming unbothered as he was now. He wasn't sure what his fate would be if his countenance betrayed how hard his heart was hammering in his ribcage. Although if they were to inspect closely, he wouldn't be able to conceal how he was barely breathing, as well as the thin sheen of cold sweat that covered his epidermis. He couldn't recall a time he had been terrified to this degree.

He felt a tug around his neck as he was pulled by the leash, much to his utter mortification. How could he have forgotten about it? He couldn't recall a time ever being humiliated to this degree either.

Scared, ashamed, disoriented, lost, _angry_ : what a combination.

Mr. Lim guided him in front of a door, where a man stood with a placid expression. He was undeniably handsome with his prominent yet harmonious features, and had the brightest eyes Wonpil had ever seen. He could definitely get lost in them, and would willingly do so had they met under different circumstances.

The handsome man knocked three times before opening the heavy wooden door for them without a prompt. He closed it quietly afterwards. Meters ahead them was a man behind a desk, fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop at such a speed. Wonpil, despite the situation, found himself awed.

Slim, sharp facial structure complimented by thin gold-rimmed glasses. Small eyes, pretty nose, plush lips, fair skin.

Was it a requirement to be beautiful in this place?

"Mr. Park," Mr. Lim called out evenly after a shallow bow, only loud enough to get attention. The man, Mr. Park, hummed distractedly, not even sparing them a glance. "I brought him."

"Him? Brought—huh? Wait." Mr. Park typed a few more things before finally giving them his full focus. His eyes briefly made contact with Wonpil's before regarding Mr. Lim.

"What's up with y'all and leashes?" He rolled his eyes. "I remember asking for someone to help Sungjin, not a dog."

"I'm just following the protocol," Mr. Lim replied, still barely inflecting his words. He yanked Wonpil by the leash once more, causing him to lurch forward with a stagger. Wonpil peered at Mr. Park, taking note of the fury that had flashed in his eyes before it was replaced by a careful blankness.

Wonpil felt a surge of hope.

"Kim Wonpil. Pianist. He has a small following from his videos online—"

"You kidnapped a celebrity?!" Mr. Park asked in astonishment, eyes widening. And despite everything, Wonpil couldn't help but marvel at how unexpectedly cute he was.

"Not kidnapped. We—" Mr. Lim frowned, a crack in his impeccable mask as he floundered visibly. "We offered him assistance."

"Assistance." Mr. Park parroted drily.

"In exchange of his services, we will help his career grow."

"And what services are we talking about?"

Great question. Wonpil couldn't remember having this conversation with Chul in what felt like years ago.

Based on Mr. Park's expression, however, he knew exactly what those "services" entailed.

Mr. Lim's mien darkened at being toyed with, while Mr. Park seemed entertained.

"Do _you_ even know why he's here, Mr. Lim?"

"He doesn't have to stay," Mr. Lim said in response, regaining his composure and not taking the bait. "He's not trained yet. He's only here as a substitute until we find someone better."

A substitute. Before someone better came along. Wonpil shouldn't, but he bristled. Apparently his pride wanted to make its existence known now out of all times.

Mr. Park vocalized his tired exasperation through a harsh exhale. "Do you people even listen? I said I want a helper, not a—"

"I can do it," he found himself talking before he could ruminate. "I'll be your helper!"

_Kim Wonpil, you absolute idiot._ He wasn't sure what kind of fate he would have in Mr. Park's hands, but this could be the chance he was waiting for.

The two stared, one in surprise, another with a raised brow. Wonpil felt that about himself too.

"Pianist, right?" Mr. Park didn't await Wonpil's confirmation. "You're dismissed, Mr. Lim. Have a good night."

Mr. Lim recovered from his shock and gave a bow of farewell without another word. The door was opened for him again. The man from before waited until Mr. Lim was out of sight before entering—perhaps this was the aforementioned Sungjin?

He strode towards Mr. Park and offered a folder. "Take a break. Please."

Mr. Park took the folder without a response. They waited as he skimmed its contents. It took a minute before he spoke. "Get him a phone," he told the man.

Wonpil was perplexed. "W-what?"

"What?" Mr. Park asked back.

"I-I wasn't allowed..."

His phone was confiscated and had not been returned. They hadn't let him contact his parents unless someone was guarding his words. He was only to assure his parents that he was alive so they wouldn't go filing for a missing person.

So what was happening?

"Well, you're here now, not there." Mr. Park then shrugged. "If you don't wanna talk to your parents it's not my problem—"

"I do, I do!" Wonpil lowered his volume, realizing his place, and tucked in a humble, "sir."

Mr. Park snorted. "It's 'Jae'."

"P-pardon?"

"Don't call me 'sir'. Also, take off that damn leash. It's making me cringe."

"B-but—"

"It's getting late so if you wanna get that phone, I suggest getting a move on." And then he was typing back in his laptop, much to the man's—Sungjin?—chagrin.

While the man—Park Sungjin, as he had introduced—herded him out, Wonpil contemplated the chances of actually getting this lucky: an opportunity to talk to his parents? Potentially escape? Being handed to him in a silver plate?

_"Hello?"_

"Mom," Wonpil said, voice thick with emotions. He had truly taken freedom for granted.

_"Pilie! You haven't called in a while!"_

He choked back a sob at the sound of the nickname.

_"How have you been?"_

"I've been f-fine."

_"Are you crying?"_

"No, I'm not," he said as he sniffled. "Where's dad?"

_"He's napping, do you want me to wake him up?"_

"It's alright, mom."

_"Oh, son, we miss you so much! Come visit your wrinkly parents soon."_

"Wrinkly?" He wiped his nose. "You don't have lines, not a single one."

_"You wouldn't know that, you haven't been here forever. Come home, Pilie."_

"Yes," he promised, resolve strengthening. He patted his pocket, feeling the cash he had been handed by Sungjin after they had purchased the phone. His allowance, the man had said. "I'll come home soon."

"I'll go grocery shopping later," Sungjin announced during breakfast the very next day, causing Wonpil's heart to skip in nerves and excitement.

"Can I come along? There's something I wanna buy," he timidly requested. He saw Sungjin and Jae exchange a glance, but couldn't decipher its meaning as it had been too quick. He just wished it wasn't negative.

"Do as you wish," Jae finally replied, sipping on his coffee. Wonpil almost let out a shout of joy.

Perhaps he really was a lucky kid.

Wonpil had waited until Sungjin was busy gauging the freshness between the radishes before walking away and blending in with the crowd. It took a little over an hour, including transportation, but he did it.

He was home.

Sitting by the dining table across his parents, sharing laughters over homemade meals. His sister was at work, but she would be back anytime soon.

He was home.

The past several days felt like a fever dream.

"Pilie? You're crying," his mother worriedly pointed out. He hastened to wipe the tears away.

"I'm just happy," he said, smiling widely. "I really missed you guys so much."

His mother cooed while his father fondly shook his head.

"Still a crybaby," his father jested, causing his mother to elbow his side.

Their front door opened. "I'm home," they heard echo in the apartment. As soon as she came into view, his sister shrieked.

"Pilie!"

Wonpil laughed, standing to accept her hug. They rocked side to side before letting go.

They smiled at each other, before his sister smacked his head. "Where have you been, you dumbass? We were worried when you wouldn't to call. You always call," she nagged.

Wonpil braced himself. "I'll explain everything, but first, how about we get out of here?"

They hit the road that evening after packing for clothes to last a few days. Two hours later, they arrived at Daejeon City, where they booked two rooms at an affordable hotel.

Despite bracing himself, Wonpil wasn't prepared for his mother sobbing and his father's wrath. While his sister, who was comforting their mother—never had he seen her as distressed as she was at the moment.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, staring at his lap.

"It's not your fault," his dad pacified, fury leaving him. He slumped, looking like he aged ten years. The three of them sat on his sister's designated bed, while Wonpil sat on his.

"You're out there now, that's the most important thing," his sister firmly stated. "For now you'll have to lie low."

"What about you guys?"

"We can pretend you never came home if anyone ever asks us."

But there was no need for that, as the next morning, while out for a hunt for a good restaurant with his family, someone slung an arm around Wonpil's shoulders out of nowhere.

"There you are," a rough voice spoke in his ear. He froze, blood running cold, and wondered how recognizable he was underneath the mask and cap. He gazed at his family, reading the realization and horror in their faces.

His father made a move to pull him away. "Let him go!"

"Oh, I don't think that's smart, _abeoji_." The man pushed his coat lapel aside, just enough for a peek of his gun.

Wonpil screwed his eyes shut. "It's okay." He did his best to give his family a smile. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry, _emmeoni_ , _abeoji_ , but I'll have to take him with me. He's supposed to be working right now, aren't you, Wonpil-ssi?" The man airily said. Wonpil recognized him from the passing, in some of the blurry nights he had spent in the club.

"Yes," he forced himself to answer. He made eye contact with each of his family. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"Of course, you'll be!" The man's smile was tad too cheerful. "You're well-behaved, from what I've heard."

A white Lexus ES stopped by beside them, making their hearts sink.

"Car's here. We'll be going ahead!" The man dragged Wonpil by the arm still around him.

"No," he heard his mom protest. He looked back to see her being held back by his father and sister, their eyes conveying fear and concern.

He smiled at them one last time before the door closed.

It would seem like he had underestimated their connections and overestimated his luck.

By some horrible twist of fate, Wonpil found himself back in the club.

Morning meant it was still closed to the public, but some of the staffs were already awake and preparing for the night ahead.

He sat on one of the tables, a mug of coffee steaming in front of him. The man sat across him, sipping on his own beverage.

"Anything to say for yourself?" The man asked, setting his cup back on the table.

"I... Mr. Park gave me a break."

The man arched a brow. "A break?"

"Yes! H-he allowed me to see my family for a few days."

"Is that so," the man replied, and Wonpil knew he wasn't being convincing enough.

"Yes, I swear!"

"Well." The man pinned him with a sharp look. "One way to find out." He took his phone out of his coat pocket and dialed a number. He placed the device on the table, on loud speaker.

"Mr. Park," the man greeted. Wonpil's pulse jumped at the name

_"Yes, Sanghoon-ssi?"_

"I have Kim Wonpil here with me. Did you really send him for an errand at Daejeon?"

What?

Didn't he say Jae sent him on a vacation? Why was this man saying...

Oh.

_This is it._ He bunched the hem of his shirt as he awaited his doom with closed eyes.

A trap to see if his and Jae's answer would match was the last thing he had expected.

And when Jae replied with, _"yes, I did,"_ Wonpil felt his world end.

"I see," the man nodded, eyes glinting as they regarded Wonpil. "He said you gave him a break though?"

_"Yeah, sure,"_ Jae casually responded, not even faltering. Wonpil was taken aback, struggling to catch up. " _Vacation, errand, whatever you wanna call it. Bring him here,"_ he ordered. His tone was no nonsense, and left no room for argument.

This man didn't care for the memo though. "But shouldn't I bring him to Chul-ssi? He was in charge of him, after all. He should be punished—"

_"I said,"_ Jae intercepted, somehow sounding colder. Wonpil shivered. It was a voice that promised _hell. "Bring. Him. Here. Do you understand, Sanghoon-ssi?"_

That did the trick, the man seemingly startled and effectively threatened. "Y-yes, sir."

For the second time, Wonpil was sitting rigidly beside the man, Sanghoon, in his white sedan. This time, he was in a limbo between relief and new type of trepidation.

Sanghoon's scoff jarred him. The man was speaking under his breath, and Wonpil caught some of them. _"Just because he's the master's adopted... acting all high and mighty... not even a member of the group..."_

It was a long way back, but Wonpil couldn't find it in himself to doze off, no matter how weary he felt. He spent the whole ride sitting like a robot and making his muscles ache from the strain.

A sense of deja vu washed over him as they boarded the elevator. He stared at the changing numbers until they reached the penthouse, where he was once again amazed.

Even the dread was the same as he had felt back then. It felt like a forever since, when in truth it had all spanned within merely two nights.

Lava coursed through his veins while his skin felt like it was under the coldest depths of the ocean. His stomach was churning, his hands sweaty, his breaths heavy but short.

Just what was Jae capable of?

What was different this time was Sungjin greeting them by the elevator doors, his eyes sympathetic. _This guy really has the most beautiful eyes_ , he distractedly thought.

Sungjin bowed to Sanghoon, who only huffed. Wonpil stepped out of the elevator and looked back to stare at the closing doors, taking Sanghoon away. It was silly, but he felt as if the elevator protected him from the man so Wonpil could breathe a tad easier.

Sungjin lead him to Jae's office. It was truly like being brought back to day one. Jae, occupied with his work today too, lifted his head.

And smiled.

Wonpil let out a shaky breath.

"Must have been tough, man," he said, pitying but not condescending. A sort of pity you receive from someone who cared about you.

"A-are you going to p-punish me?" He dared ask. Jae's eyes were large with surprise, his brows shooting up.

"Dude, what?"

Sungjin, incapable of holding it any longer, let out a laugh.

"Do you really think I'm like that?" Jae asked, with a—was that a—

A pout?

_Oh shit,_ Wonpil thought. _That's adorable. Shit. Fuck. I'm gonna protect this guy._

"Anyway," Jae waved a dismissing hand. It would look authoritative, but Wonpil was now seeing a kid trying to act grown up instead. "I listened to your music."

"Oh."

Jae nodded, regaining his smile. "You really have a talent."

"Oh. _Oh_. T-thank you."

"I can hook you up with this guy, he's crazy talented producer. He can get you started," Jae nonchalantly suggested, like he was talking about how humid today was.

Like he wasn't offering to hand Wonpil his dreams in a golden plate.

"Huh? What?"

He heard Sungjin snort from beside him but he couldn't focus on anything else. The offer kept echoing in his brain, hindering his cognitive functions.

Jae's smile turned soft. "I'll call him first thing tomorrow, alright? For now rest. Ah, call your parents! We don't want them worrying now, do we?"

Wonpil could only nod in daze as Sungjin began gently steering him out.

Was he truly this lucky?

The phone was picked up after the fifth ring.

_"Hello?"_ Came a cautious greeting.

"Mom," Wonpil called out with a grin.

_"Wonpil! Oh my god!"_

_"Wonpil?!"_ He heard his father exclaim, causing him to giggle. _"How are you, son? Did they hurt you?!"_

"No, mom, dad, I'm okay." His chest seized with guilt. "I'm sorry I'm just calling now. I was going to last night, but I fell asleep the moment I hit the bed."

_"It's no problem at all, we're just glad you're okay! But are you sure?"_

"Yes! More than fine actually. Jae's gonna introduce me to this producer later, he's—"

_"Is it another scam?"_

"No, dad, he's actually famous and amazing," he assured, smile turning tender. "So is Jae."

Wonpil had chosen to quench his curiosity when Sungjin had tasked him to deliver Jae's snacks to his room.

"What is it, by the way? I never got to ask," Wonpil queried after placing the tray of foods on the space beside Jae's desktop.

"What's what?" Jae's attention didn't part from the screen, the game more interesting for him than the conversation.

"The 'services' Mr. Lim talked about before." Though Wonpil was well aware, he wanted more explanation. In a perverse sort of curiosity, he wanted to know. Nothing in depth, just... more.

"Oh. It's favors. Most of the time sexual, but not limited to it. Some clients like the exclusivity, and anonymity. You do everything they ask of you."

Wonpil sighed. There you go. It wasn't detailed, but the gist was sufficient.

Jae finally turned to him, averting his eyes from his dead character. "It's not as if I'm looking for it though. Sungjin does a wonderful job as it is." And Wonpil almost choked in his shock. "But it's what essentially what... 'slaves' are for. Don't worry though, nobody's forcing you here. I really just want someone to help Sungjin around."

"Why don't you hire a housekeeper or something?"

Jae's eyes dulled. "I don't just trust anyone," he answered simply. Wonpil remained silent for a moment, contemplating.

"But what if I want to?" He asked, seemingly random.

"Want to what?" Jae asked back. His character had respawned and had resumed its adventure.

"Service you." Wonpil hung his head, cheeks coloring. "I've never done anything before. With other people I mean."

Jae gave one blink. "Then I'll show you how it's done."

Wonpil stiffly sat at the edge of Jae's queen-sized bed, naked save for his boxer briefs. Waiting. Already half-hard from stripping and anticipation alone. Jae was kneeling in front of him, yet Wonpil was the one who felt small.

Jae ran his hands on his thighs, light and tickling, before moving his face close. Wonpil's abs contracted when Jae's lips grazed it. A few feathery kisses here and there, the touch almost phantom, but Wonpil was keenly aware of each one.

He bit his lower lip in impatience, and Jae took it as a cue to palm his bulge. He progressively added pressure, rubbing Wonpil to fullness.

Jae tapped his leg once. "Off," the older demanded, gaze on his underwear.

After Wonpil had followed as he was told, Jae gripped him with an appreciative hum. He once read that shorter guys actually boasted bigger packages. He had snorted back then, but Wonpil was proving them right. He adored the weight and girth in his palm.

He gave the length kittenish licks, hooded eyes never straying from Wonpil's, before he was engulfing the tip and pressing his tongue on the frenulum. Wonpil threw his head back with a shaky gasp, breaking their eye contact.

Unbeknownst to him, Jae's eyes sparkled with mischief and smugness. He went down, taking in more of Wonpil in his mouth. His lips grazed Wonpil's skin lightly, too good and not enough. When he reached halfway, he hallowed his cheeks and sucked _hard_ on his way up, making Wonpil clutch on the bedsheets with a loud cry.

"Fuck," Wonpil cursed helplessly. Jae retreated with a chuckle, stroking Wonpil leisurely.

"My bare minimum and you make sounds like that already." Jae's grin was sharp. "Man, virgins are so cute." He giggled mockingly.

_Adorable_ , Wonpil couldn't help but think. Despite his menacing aura, Jae managed to be adorable in his eyes.

"And just because you're cute—" Jae cocked his head. "—do you wanna come in me?"

"I-in you?"

Jae shrugged, backing away to sit on his haunches. Wonpil's lips involuntarily went down at the loss. "In my mouth down my throat, or inside _me_ , which meant going all the way."

"Going all the way..." Wonpil mimicked dazedly, as if under a spell. Jae laughed. He turned to the nightstand and crawled forward to reach over without having to move much, giving Wonpil something _very_ nice to stare at. He fetched something in the drawer, before sitting up and dangling a pack of condom in front of Wonpil.

Wonpil had never nodded so eagerly in his life.

Jae opened the pack and rolled the condom on him. Afterwards, he returned to the nightstand for lube before motioning for Wonpil to move farther on the bed. Once he had settled himself in the middle, Jae straddled his legs with his back turned on him.

Jae glanced back at him from his shoulder. "Make sure to enjoy the show," were his only words. Then he was gripping Wonpil and taking him in.

Wonpil's mouth fell open and he stopped breathing.

Jae went _slow_ , taking every inch at a speed both agonizing and overwhelming.

_"Oh god,"_ he breathed out once Jae sat flush on his pelvis. He felt Jae's snicker from the vibration and tightening around his dick and he groaned. "J-Jae."

"Hmn?" Jae hummed, a sound too amused and sadistic. He rocked his body back and forth teasingly. "I haven't even done anything yet."

_Precisely_ , he thought. Jae hadn't done anything yet and he was _so_ ready to cum.

Jae lifted himself with the same teasing slowness, but came back down as if gravity had pulled him, causing Wonpil's to grab his waist in surprise.

"Wait—"

But Jae was apparently strong despite his thin stature. He removed Wonpil's hands with no difficulty and rode him like he was nothing but a toy. Nothing but a dispensable thing made solely for Jae's gratification.

The position gave Wonpil the best view of his cock going in and out of Jae. He could only watch and moan as Jae did as he wanted—not that Wonpil had complaints. Far from it. Jae took in a way that felt like giving; he was using Wonpil, yet Wonpil was probably receiving more.

Correction: it wasn't a probability. Giving it a thought, Jae was not only giving him a "show". The way he moved according to Wonpil's verbal reactions, the way he clenched periodically for added pressure—Jae was actually doing his best to give Wonpil everything under the guise of control.

Beneath the haze of arousal, Wonpil was touched.

And then Jae braced himself on Wonpil's thighs and undulated his hips, fully surrounding the younger with his velvety warmth. Wonpil's mind went blank. The sight of Jae's hole swallowing his cock whole, the _feeling_ of it—the very idea of it all, a wet dream came to life—were enough to push him over the edge.

He thrusted up on instinct, trying to milk his orgasm. Jae helped him through it, meeting his motions and grounding himself down until Wonpil was fully satisfied.

As Wonpil caught his breath, embarrassment caught up with him too.

He came fast, _early_. Jae probably barely enjoyed himself.

He propped himself up to a reclining position, supporting himself with his elbows. His face was cherry red. "I'm sorry, I—"

Jae held a hand up, cutting him off. "It's okay," he replied, moving forward to slip Wonpil out of him. He spun to face the younger and removed the condom for him, Wonpil's brows twitching at the sudden cold.

His eyes landed on Jae's erection. He made a gesture towards it, asking without words. In response, Jae took the discarded lube, poured some over his dick, and began stroking himself.

"Wait, c-can I..."

Jae blinked at him lazily before leaning back, holding himself up with his hands. He spread his legs with an unreadable expression that made Wonpil gulp.

He settled himself between those gorgeous long legs and hesitated.

"Do it like how you usually do to yourself," Jae instructed, tilting his head back and looking at Wonpil from under his nose.

Wonpil took a deep breath. He steadied Jae by the base with his thumb and index finger, while his unoccupied hand wrapped around the shaft. He went up and thumbed at Jae's frenulum, like Jae had done to him with his tongue earlier.

Jae's eyes fell shut and Wonpil felt pride, but also a pang of regret for not witnessing Jae's expressions when he had been fucking himself on Wonpil. Had he looked blissful? What if he had been bored?

Fingers gently carded through his black locks and rested on the back of his head. He looked up and met Jae's gaze.

"Your being loud," Jae said. Wonpil was confused.

"But I'm not even—"

"Thoughts," Jae whispered, leaning in. He used the hand in Wonpil's hair to guide him near, to meet in the middle. They stopped at a few centimeters, and Wonpil inhaled the air the older expelled. "Shut it." And for the first time that night, Wonpil got a taste of those plumpness.

They were a bit chapped like his were, but they were warm. Sweet. Jae kissed in a soothing, encouraging way.

"Go faster," Jae muttered against his lips, and Wonpil didn't want to fail him.

When he dared trace his mouth along Jae's jawline, he received a hummed of consent, a hand playing with his mane. He left open-mouthed kisses down the column of Jae's neck, and followed its curve with the tip of his tongue. He wanted so much to splash it hues of red and purple, but restrained himself. Not until he knew what Jae's opinion of hickeys was.

Instead he paid attention to the alabastrine expanse of Jae's bare chest, with his hand unwavering in serving him. He sighed, as if he was the one being pleasured.

When Jae's hold on his hair tightened and his breaths came out labored, Wonpil gained enthusiasm. He made sure not an area was untouched. And when Jae spilled over, he leaned back to watch, focusing on the head as the older rode out his orgasm. Jae's lips were red and parted as he panted, face slack from his release.

_Beautiful_ , Wonpil thought, not for the first time. He loved it—the face Jae had made, the way he had weakly whimpered, how his hips had jerked from reaching his peak, _everything_.

He felt high and it was addicting.

Wonpil entered the kitchen to see Jae already in it. He sat on the island stool, observing as Jae took out the lactose-free milk from the fridge. He proceeded to pour some on the bowl already on the counter. Then he took out a box of cereal from the cupboard, and poured it atop the milk.

Wonpil was stupefied.

"Uhm, Jae?"

"Yeah?" Jae uttered, returning the milk and cereal back in their respective places and snatching a spoon from one of the drawers.

"You... Nevermind. So, I haven't updated my Instagram for a while."

Jae occupied the stool beside him, mixing his breakfast. "And?"

"I was thinking if maybe I can?"

Jae's brows furrowed. "Why not?"

"So I can?"

"Yeah, dude."

"With you?"

"Huh?"

"A photo with you?"

"Now that's a different story."

Wonpil put his hands together and made his eyes bigger. "Please!"

Jae refused to look at him. "Why even?" He grumbled.

"Just because!"

"That's not—"

"Please!"

"—a compelling reason—"

"Please!"

"—I don't really—"

"Please!"

"Fucking fine!"

Wonpil darted away from the kitchen with a snicker, leaving Jae to aggressively eat his cereal in peace.

He headed to the living room, diving on the soft couch and staring at the photo. Angled right ahead of them, his arm was wrapped around Jae while Jae, with his refusal to move his chair closer, had his head against Wonpil's collarbone. They were smiling, but Wonpil recalled how Jae's had dropped in an instant in favor of glowering up at him. It was the point when Wonpil had ran away.

He uploaded it with a simple caption of a four-leaf clover, immediately closing the app without waiting to see the comments.

Maybe he really was lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> this whole series is just an excuse to write porn tbh
> 
> also I kept fretting over small details to make this as realistic as I could with my limited knowledge that I forgot this is just a fanfic and we could all suspend our beliefs (pls do so thanks)
> 
> btw, I use -ssi but I also use "Mr." which might make some of you frown. But I imagine when they say "Mr." here, it's equivalent to -nim. It's just weird to use that. "Park-nim" doesn't sound right for me idk why 😂😂


End file.
